Lost, but Never Forgotten
by DarkSky4Ever
Summary: Harry was swarmed by a horde of wizards lobbying for the attention of his brother, the boy-who-lived. Traumatized by the event and left mute, his parents sent him away to the Dursleys in hopes that the change would do him good, as they were unable to help him, no matter what they tried. Years later, Snape independently decides to check on him, but doesn't like what he finds. . .


**I know I just posted this, but I'm REWRITING THIS AS WE SPEAK. My subpar writing was nagging at me and I finally caved. Please check it again in a few days, I should have the new version posted. It will be different, but I think the writing style in it is much better and far more palatable. Sorry for messing those up who've already read it ^.^'**

**Disclaimer: I. Own. Nothing. Who knew? Not me . . . *whistles a lovely tune***

To the Potter household was not born just a single son, but rather, fraternal twin brothers. Both were loved, but where young Nicholas favored his mother's looks and father's mannerisms, Harrison had his father's coloring and his mother's personality. These traits were already visible even though the twins were barely a year of age.

It was Halloween morning and the two children were being fed their morning meal. Nick was suckling loudly from his bottle, light brown eyes dancing with enjoyment as he filled his hungry belly, while Harry, who was being held by his mother, fed quietly, making no sound, vivid green eyes alert and focused, intent on his bottle and it alone.

The two couldn't be more different, Lily thought fondly, patting her youngest son on the back when he finished eating. Nick was soon finished too, and the boys where set in their nursery to play while their parents prepared for the new day, with strict instructions for their house elf, Moddy, to watch them and call their the elder Potters should any troubles arise between the two.

James and Lily had much to prepare for, although it wasn't trick –or-treating they were looking forward to, but an Order of the Phoenix meeting, a secret society that they belonged to as to help bring about the end of the current Dark Lord Voldemort, however futile their actions seemed.

Back in the nursery, Nick went straight for the numerous amounts of toys the room supplied, many of them given to the boys to share by their over extravagant and doting father. He made a happy cooing sound, his short red hair falling into his slightly freckled face as he pulled out a toy broom and promptly began to chew on it.

Harry, however, sat and watched his brother with all the distain a one year old child could manage. He didn't see how Nick could be amused by such mundane things. Feeling superiorly sophisticated, again as much as a young boy could, he shakily walked himself over to the small oak play table, took a seat, and reached for his mother's worn copy of _The Tales of Beetle Bard_ and flipped it open.

Now, being one, the boy couldn't read, except for a few simple words that he recognized by their letters and not the sounds they made. He began counting every _the_ he saw on the page, and followed with finding the _I'_s, _a'_s, and _it'_s. Having finished with his personally assigned tasks, he began to closely examine the pictures, trying to remember every small detail as if it was the most important thing in the world, and used the illustrations to mentally retell himself the stories that his mother had read him countless times over, indulging him every time he asked.

That was how they were found little over an hour later by Lily, James, and the newly arrived Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, with the red haired boy surrounded by cast away toys and the jet black with his book open to intense scrutiny.

Upon hearing the adults enter the room, both boys looked up, the larger, brown eyed twin with excitement at seeing Sirius, but the smaller boy at the table just glanced at them, met Lupin's gaze for just a moment, and returned to his book.

Nick ran as fast as he could over to them (which wasn't so much running as tumbling) and hugged Sirius's leg. "Siri!" he cried with a child's bright joy. The other's smiled at the child's actions, called it cute, and coddled him, while Lupin eventually broke away from the pack and made his way toward Harry.

He knelt down beside the child and asked, "What are you reading?"

Harry, being the intelligent being he was, kept his hand in his place but flipped the book closed over it, and showed the man the cover. "It's _The Tales of Beetle Bard_." The boy said, not stuttering once or mispronouncing a word.

Lupin smiled and patted him on the head. "Good job! You take after your mother with your smarts, you know?" Harry preened at the simple praise, his young face dimpling as he smiled.

Soon, the twins were coaxed away from what they were doing, and the six of them made for the lounge in the house, socializing and entertaining each other, altogether deepening their bonds of friendship.

Now, Nick's godfather was Remus and Harry's was Sirius, but both men felt that their assignments should have been reversed. It had been assumed that when they boys were born, because Nick had Lily's hair, he'd be more like her, and Harry like his father, but that hadn't been the case. So as it were, both got along with the opposite's godchild the best, so Lupin was entertaining Harry, and Sirius, Nick.

The day was spent in such a fashion until evening came, and the tired babes were to be put to bed and the adults were to be off to their order meeting.

The twins were sleeping contently in their respective cribs as Lily gave them each a kiss goodnight on the forehead and quietly left the room, closing the door with nary a sound.

Down in the foyer, the door bell rang, and, already standing there, James opened the door, already knowing who would be on the other side of it. It was young Mary Thomas, recently graduated from Hogwarts, and a former pupil of Lily's. She had done tutoring while still in school for the younger Gryffindors who were struggling with their studies. Usually, though, despite her offers, it was only the other muggleborns that sought her out.

"Don't worry, Lily." She said with a reassuring smile, her soft gray eyes alight with kindness. "I'll firecall you if there's any trouble." She promised, and saw the fretting mother and amused men out of the house.

"We should be back by midnight at the latest." Lily called as her husband dragged her toward the edge of the anti apperation wards. "If we're any later, I'll let you know!" she managed before she was side-along apparated away by her impatient husband, soon to be followed by their amused friends. Little did they know the horrors that would befall their small house that night. . .

[][][][][][]

The clock had just struck 11 and Mary stifled a yawn, holding the novel she'd been reading up to cover her mouth. A gesture of politeness it was, but unnecessary as she was alone. Still, habit prevailed.

The twins were happily snuggled away in their beds, Nick sprawled out under his blankets and Harry tucked neatly away under his. They both looked like angels as they slept, Mary mused, but thought Nick's unconscious form to hold more innocence than Harry's. That thought startled her for a moment. They were both just children, so why would she be pondering such things? She pushed the topic away, but had she pursued it, she would have realized the difference between the children that her subconscious brain had picked up on: Nick was the light angel, while Harry more so resembled the dark. No doubt this difference would become far more pronounced as they grew older.

Not but minutes after Mary had gone back to the riveting pages of her novel, did she hear a loud bang from the outermost perimeters of the property, and a sickly red light lit up the night. Gasping in fear as she realized that, tonight of all nights, the house was under attack, she dropped her book, pulled out her wand, and, trembling, made her way to the door. Cautiously, but foolishly, she opened it, determined to find what the cause of the disturbance was. Unfortunately for her, the last thing she saw was a blinding flash of green light and a high, echoing cackle that hinted at a being less than sane.

[][][][][][]

Voldemort was standing in a nursery room, the walls painted a baby blue, with the carpet a contrasting yet complimentary forest green, which gave the room a certain charisma. For toddlers, that was. The Dark Lord, however, was not impressed by the childish aesthetics.

When he'd entered the room, both of the children were still asleep, the larger red headed one in the crib by the window on the left side of the room, snoring softly away unaware of the plight he currently faced. The black haired child was against the opposite wall, and not long after the red eyed man entered the room, his own glowing green eyes opened, and he slowly sat up, staring straight at Lord Voldemort through the wooden bars of his bed, a slight expression of curiosity on his small, rounded features.

The Dark Lord smirked. "Awake just in time to meet your end, aren't you?" he cooed menacingly at the child, who merely tilted his head at the unfamiliar man, eyes vacant of fear, vacant of almost all expression as well. Even for the Dark Lord, such lack of response in one so young was quite unsettling.

Voldemort's lips curved into a frown. He wasn't used to his victims being unafraid of him. Even the smallest of infants had cried and screamed in his presence, and the most hardened of men had quaked at his single glance. So why was the child so stoic? Such indifference angered him.

"You'll be the first to go, then." He snarled and pulled out his wand, and held it precariously pointed at Harry, held between his thumb and pointer finger. "_Avada Kedavra!_" He hissed, and a bright green light, exactly matching the eyes of the spells intended target, shot toward the child.

The Dark Lord smirked in triumph. Only one wretched brat to go. But his smile faded quickly enough when he realized that the spell had stopped at Harry, and surrounded him, but seemed to be doing the boy no harm what so ever. Indeed, the spell was still volatile, even though somewhat contained around the boy, but still shooting off to the sides almost like small bolts of lightning, ripping at and destroying his crib.

Dumbfounded, Voldemort simply watched as the spell gathered toward the front of Harry, congealed, and shot back at him, although some of the power of the spell had been lost in its redirection, shooting brightly around the room, burning and splintering the walls and furniture. A piece of debris hit Nickolas, and the ignorant child finally awoke, wailing all the while as he bled lightly from his wound.

Meanwhile, the spell met its second target, and the Dark Lord hadn't time for anything more than a shocked expression before his body disintegrated to ash. This didn't happen peacefully though, his body combusted with an explosion, showering the boys with dark magic, a stray bit of it hitting Nicholas right around his heart, and the boy wailed even louder.

Voldemort's body may have been destroyed, but for reasons unknown at that time, his soul still lived on. With the last ounce of its furious energy, it launched itself furiously at the black haired child that had bested him on what should have been a simple death. The disembodied soul streaked toward Harry and impacted on his forehead, just slightly to the left, leaving a jagged raw lightning bolt in its wake before it faded away, out of energy and power, off to a different but parallel plane of existence.

Not making a sound of pain, but eyes widened slightly with surprise, Harry fell back into his crib, his eyes falling shut as he lost consciousness, and hit his head hard off of the back of his crib as he reached the bottom. His small head lolled to the side, and a small amount of blood flowed from his new wound. He did not wake. Nicholas continued to cry into the silence.

[][][][][][]

Less than an hour later, it was just the two elder Potters who were returning to their home, Sirius and Remus having gone to their own respective residences. Immediately upon arriving at the house, they could tell something was wrong, the most obvious tell was the front door having been left wide open.

Hearts filled with trepidation, they ran up the few steps into the house, and Lily screamed at the sight that greeted the two. Mary lay pale, stiff, and still on the foyer floor, her eyes faded and glassy with death. Rigor mortis had yet to set in, but soon it would have her in its cool grasp.

Tears flowed from Lily's eyes. Fear tightened its grip around her heart, and she darted away from James' comforting arms and toward the stairs, up to her sons' room. If Mary was dead, she wondered, then what had become of them? Wanting to find the answer to the question, but dreading it all the same, she propelled herself down the hall as fast as she could, and burst into their room.

The walls were scoured with deep gashes, some even reaching through the outer siding, letting in the cool late October draft. On the floor was an empty black silk robe, covered in ash, while the slight breeze blew small amounts of it in drifts across the floor. But, most importantly, Nicholas was _alive! _ In her joy, Lily ran over to his crib and scooped him up, immediately mindful of the cuts and scrapes he'd obtained.

"Shhh." She crooned to him as he began wailing in her arms. "Hush, baby, it's alright now, it's alright . . ." she kept repeating nonsense to him all the while, and soon enough he calmed down, if only slightly.

Only minutes after Lily, James entered the room as well, a haggard look on his face.

"Check Harry!" Lily ordered from where she rocked her red headed son, soothing him, while tears of joy and fear rand down her face. Harry hadn't moved since she'd been in here, and admittedly, she was too frightened to go check him for life herself, only to find him as stiff and cold as her young friend on the ground floor.

Carefully, slowly, and cautiously, James lowered his arms into the crib, and picked up his younger son. Immediately, he felt warmth radiating from him, although at first he was cool to the touch, presumably from the cool air in the room, and not having any blankets on to protect himself from it.

"It's alright." He told Lily, watching the slight rise and fall of his son's chest as he breathed, the light flare of his nostrils in and out with every breath. "He's going to be just fine." He told his wife; with the relief only a parent could feel knowing that their children were alive coursing through them both.

[][][][][][]

Both twins were sleeping in their parents' arms as the night progressed into the early hours of the morning. The Order had been called in, along with Albus Dumbledore, to investigate the happenings earlier in the night.

It was soon proclaimed that the Dark Lord Voldemort had perished inside the very walls surrounding them, and, according to Dumbledore, it was one of the twin boys who was behind hid long sought downfall.

"You can't possibly be serious!" James hissed at Albus when he was informed of the old man's conclusions. "You mean to say that one of my sons's killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? You must be kidding me!" he vehemently denied the accusation, but kept his voice quiet while doing so as to not wake the sleeping Harry in his arms.

Albus was the epitome of patience though, and began to explain once again to James, as well as Lily, Sirius, and Remus who were all in the room as well, as they felt they pertained to the current conversation. "There is a prophesy, my boy, and I believe it marks one of your sons."

Seeing the unsure and downright disbelieving gazes of his audience, the old wizard sighed and pulled out his wand, placing it to his temple. With a small grimace, he used it to pull a milky, silverish substance from his head, a memory, the others recognized, one that normally would be placed in a pensive. However, instead of doing so, the old man cast it into the air, mumbled a few words, and let his magic do the rest.

The substance spread through the air, losing its previous shining luster, and morphing into muted colors and images, completing itself as it composed an accurate view of a private room in the Hog's Head, where a slightly younger Dumbledore and Trelawney sat. However, it wasn't Trelawney's voice they heard when the woman began to speak.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . Born to those who have thrice defied him, Born as the seventh month dies . . ." _the celestial voice began, holding the rapt attention of all those present. It wasn't often one heard a legitimate prophesy, let alone saw one replayed. The voice continued, "_And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. . . The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies . . ."_

The voice trailed away, the picture leaving with it, and the room was left in silence. Finally, Remus spoke up, addressing Albus. "And what makes you think that Nicholas or Harrison is the one the prophesy spoke of?"

Dumbledore launched into his carefully thought out explanation. "Lily, James, you know by now that you have fought against him three times and come out successfully, thus explaining the thrice defied aspect of the prophesy. Your sons were born on July 31st, the end of the seventh month, so, figuratively, it could be said that the month was _dying._ As for being marked as Voldemort's equal, both bear wounds that will no doubt scar because of the dark magic used in their presence." He finished.

Silence prevailed. No one spoke, not for several minutes, still trying to process the information they'd just been given. At last, Lily spoke.

"Do you have any idea which twin it is?" she asked, hesitantly, not wanting the answer but needing to know.

"I think it is young Nickolas." The old headmaster spoke. "I suppose you'll want to know why?" the affirmation was unanimous. "It comes down to who Voldemort marked. Both of them bear marks of his magic, do they not?" the question was rhetorical, everyone already knew it was true. "So then we must ask ourselves, which one was a mishap of uncontrolled magic, and which was intentional? When we think of it that way, the answer is really quite obvious."

Lily gasped. "You can't mean . . ." she trailed off.

"What? What is it?" James demanded.

Looking pale, Lily shared her thoughts. "Albus is saying that its Nicholas."

"But why?" Sirius chimed in.

"Because," she swallowed hard, "Nick has a V over his heart, and no doubt it will scar because its cause was dark magic. He marked him with his initial."

"Then Harry's lightning bolt?" the werewolf in the room asked.

"Just a bit of stray magic, I'm afraid." Dumbledore clarified. "Probably the same that wreaked it's havoc on the boys' room."

"But why is the prophesy so important anymore?" James asked, his face puzzled, "Voldemort's dead. Why should it even affect us anymore? What could it possibly have to do with my sons now?"

The old headmaster's eyes darkened, along with his expression. "I do not believe that Tom is truly dead," he said solemly.

Outraged cries of rage, surprise, and underlying fear rose up in the room, but quieted soon after, waiting for a continuation of the explanation.

"I cannot believe that Voldemort, as fearful of death as he is, wouldn't have taken precautions against his demise. I fear only his body has been destroyed, but his soul still wanders the living realm, waiting for a chance to become corporeal again."

"But then that means He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Names will rise again." Remus said in horror.

"And Nick will have to fight him." A tear rolled slowly down Lily's cheek and dripped down to the floor, its shining trail then the only proof of its existence.

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid so, my dear."

_**Finis . . .For Now**_


End file.
